


The Prince and the Pauper

by Lucia123456780



Category: The Prince and the Pauper - Mark Twain
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucia123456780/pseuds/Lucia123456780
Summary: Based on the book The Prince and the Pauper.We've all watched the Barbie movie- The Princess and the PauperOr the Disney movie- The Prince and the PauperWell this story is similar- two identical boys; one a handsome Prince who has all he could want and the other, a normal boy, who has always dreamt of palaces and balls and sparkling suits.What if one day, there was a way to make his dreams come true?
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time- that's how all fairytales start, right? But this one is slightly different. Okay, a lot different.

It all started when Prince Jonathan of Kedorian was born on the last day of December with a small amount of brown hair on his little head to match his little brown eyes. Everyone in Kedorian knew this but it went unaware that only a few rooms away, a boy, Christian Knight was born. 

What does he have to do with this? You may ask. Well, this boy was exactly identical to the Prince of Kedorian!

It seems too incredible to be true, but it is. It still dazes me to this day that the doctors didn't realise - that no one realised - that these two boys looked exactly the same.

Then again, this is a fairytale. Anything is possible.


	2. Chapter 2

Christian pov 

I was on the streets again, begging. I wouldn't have had to do this if my father didn't spend all our money on drinking and gambling. My father had observed that people take pity on poor, disabled children. He dressed me every day in baggy ripped clothes and gave me a stick to replace my leg with and pushed me out the house. I couldn't come back until I had at least one silver coin.

That day was a particularly hard as there was a children's puppet show that came to town every few months and no one ever missed it. Unfortunately, this meant that they take no notice of me as they hurried off to the square. I now have to sit in the cold for another hour until they start walking back to the pub I'm outside of.

Just as I thought my luck had run out and I was about to sleep to make up for the cleaning hours I did last night, a man dressed in fine clothes walked towards the door. He looked like a lord with money to spare so I started coughing to get his attention. He looked at me and crouched down to inspect me more carefully. He looked at my leg and gasped in pity. He patted my shoulder and opened my hand. He placed three gold coins in my palm. 

That was more than I got in a whole week. I shouted out thanks and blessings as he pushed the pub door open and I could hear the chattering of drunken men and giggling ladies.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled off the stick and ran back to my house. It really wasn't much. We shared it with five other people and our living area was only small. We had two beds and both were as uncomfortable as the other. I remember a time when I was younger and we had our own cottage just outside town with flowers my mother had planted all around it. Those were the good days, the days before my father started gambling. 

Once, my mother was out late and she was grabbed by a man who did horrible things to her in an alleyway. My father went looking for her but by then the man's friends were there too and he couldn't fight them all off. They made him pay money every night and soon he had no money to keep his little jewellers shop open. He then started the gambling and it soon got to his head and then the drinking started.

He used to be so kind but then all he did was hit me and blame me for all his troubles. I hate him. Not my real father. I loved him.

I walked up the stairs two flights and got to Father Andrew's floor. He was a priest who taught me mathematics, English and Latin. He always had so many books that I was always interested in so he started teaching me how to read. Sometimes when my father is beyond mad my mother either makes me stay the night downstairs or I make Father Andrew come and get her so she doesn't get hurt trying to protect me.

I never fought back unless he hit my mother because I didn't care what he did to me as long as she was okay.

Every day I got back from begging I usually had three coins. I gave one to Father Andrew, one to my mother to hide for when we need it most, and one to my father who always thought that was the only coin.

Most of the time when I tried to give a coin to Father Andrew he would reject it and tell me to give it to my mother. Sometimes I did but other times I told him that if he wouldn't use it then he could buy a book and read it to me.

He only took a coin once and that was when his niece was sick with fever. She died soon as the coin only got her half a bottle of medicine. From then on he never needed coins.

"Father?" I knocked on his door and her opened it.

"Ah! Christian! What brings you here so early? You don't have another Latin lesson until Wednesday!" He said with a joyful smile. He was always smiling and always seemed so happy. Maybe it was an act to get everyone else happy because who could be happy living in such a horrible place?

"I have some money for you Father. Please accept it. You don't have to use it right away but please take it. I want you to."

"Boy, listen here: I don't need money. I am doing perfectly fine. Your mother, however, does. Give it to her!" He always said this and always I knew he was right. But every time I kept coming back, mostly to just see a kind face which makes a difference from my miserable family.

"Father, do you ever think that we will able to get away?" I knew that it was impossible as he would never stop looking for us, his property, but I wanted to see what Father Andrew would say.

"You just have to keep hoping that one day you will. Because one day, you will! Keep a smile on your face and everything will be alright."

"Will praying help?"

"Praying? I didn't think you prayed!"

"I'm willing to try anything," I said truthfully.

He put a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "Sometimes, Christian, even I'm not sure that there is a God out there. But I just have to keep hoping there is because this crappy world can't be it, can it?"

"Thank you, Father. Have a great afternoon!" I smiled and skipped out the door. He was right. Smiling does make things better. But that means things can rapidly get worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Christian POV 

I walked up another flight of stairs and got to my door. It's really tiring walking up all these stairs but one gets used to it. Eventually.

My mother opened the door, just enough to see through and enough to quickly close it if needed.

When she saw my bright face she quickly ushered me in and closed the door behind me.

She pulled me in a tight hug and whispered in my ear: "I missed you today, my prince."

"Today wasn't any different from yesterday, mother," I chuckled.

"You're my son. I'm allowed to miss you when I want to miss you," she declared.

"Where's father?" I asked quietly. My mother pointed to their room, which had the door shut.

"I was lucky today, you know," I beamed.

My mother looked confused, "But I thought everyone was out by the puppet show."

"They were but a rich man gave me gold coins! Three!" I took them out of my pocket to show my mother. She picked one up and tears started to form in her eyes.

"This could last us weeks! Thank you, my son, thank you!" She kisses my forehead multiple times and I grimaced at each one.

"Mother!" I cried.

"Oh, hush. Just because you're 16, don't mean that you're any less my little boy." She ruffled my hair and ran her fingers through it.

"Father Andrew refused the money again, so here, keep this safe,"

"I will, love." There was a loud bang of a door as my father walked up to us. My mother hid the coins in her hand.

He got in my mother's face, about to hit her as she cowered under him so I got in front of her. "Father! I got-"

"That is no way to talk to me!" He boomed and punched me in the mouth. It hurt like hell.

My mother pushed me aside and started attacking my father, despite my attempts to pull her away, and the coins dropped out her hands.

They hit the wooden floor with two sharp clinks that got my fathers attention. He pushed my mother away and got on his knees, searching for the coins.

"Mother, go outside. I'll deal with him." I opened the door for her.

"No! You're my son. I'm your mother. I can fight him," she pleaded.

"I know, mother. But please; it would break my heart if you got hurt."

"And it would break my heart if you got hurt anymore than you already are!" 

"I love you. See you later." And I slammed the door shut on her.

I waltzed up to my father on the floor; he was still searching for the coins. I could hear my mother pounding on the door and her small sobs. She tries her best all the time but she's too frail. Some days she gives me her food and tells me she already ate. I'm stupid enough to believe her. 

She tries to stay brave for me, and I for her, but that hasn't got us far.

We would tell the police but they wouldn't care. Some of them are the ones who hurt her years ago and still do sometimes.

On good days, when my father doesn't blame me or mother for our unfortunes he gives the coins to the men. But that is rare. It hasn't happened for a year.

"So, boy," he stood up and grabbed me by my collar. "Been keeping coins from me, eh?"

"What if I have?" I shot back.

"Then you better give me three gold coins every day or I'll hurt that mother of yours."

"No. This was a one off. It's not going to happen again. I doubt that someone with gold coins will come my way again."

"Get me them, or else!" He jumped on me and I fell to the ground with a thud.

I banged my head hard on the floor and began to feel all fuzzy and like I wasn't in control of my body.

Continuous hits were flying to my face and soon enough I was beaten up so bad I couldn't feel them anymore.

"That'll teach you," my father spat and left, no doubt to spend the coins on a round at the pub.

I don't remember much but my mother came running up to me with Father Andrew and treated my wounds and put me to bed.

I woke up at some point during the night and my mother was still sitting on the end of my bed.

I sat up slowly through the pain in my head and faced her. "How are you feeling?" She asked softly.

"Horrid," I said truthfully.

"He won't come back anytime soon. I made sure of it." She lifted up a small vial and winked at me. "Got it from a witch in the next town over. It will knock him out for the night and leave him dazed for a day. She's a really nice lady. She's called Hettie and she's allowing us to stay with her."

"Really?" I beamed. 

"Yes. We leave tomorrow."

"That's great, mum."

"Yes it is, my prince." I wish I was a real prince. I would live in the most lavish palace and have four meals a day. I could banish my father and make my mother the queen. 

"Have you ever seen the Prince?" I asked.

"No," she admitted, "But I've seen the King."

"What's he like?" Poor people like us can't even breathe the same air as Royals. It was a miracle if my mother even got a glimpse of the King.

"Fat." We laughed.

"Where do they live?"

"West of here. About a mile. Go back to sleep now, okay?"


End file.
